


Dream In My Head

by Miya_Morana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Winchesters are taking her away from the massacre at the Elysian Fields Motel, Kali decides to use Gabriel’s blood to bind him to Sam in order to save his life. Now what’s left of Gabriel after Lucifer stabs him is trapped inside Sam’s subconscious, completely cut from the world except for when Sam is dreaming, until he's strong enough to break free.<br/>Meanwhile, Sam and Dean are trying to stop the Apocalypse on their own, and with Castiel still missing they hope they can trust the help Gabriel is offering them.<br/>Time is ticking, and as the final confrontation with Lucifer approaches, the brothers have to deal with the demon Crowley showing up, two Horsemen, Castiel’s return and feelings they can’t just keep ignoring anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Semi AU from the end of 5.19 Hammer of the Gods but loosely following the canon.  
> Written for the gabriel_bigbang in 2011, based on an idea by morganoconner. The title is from a song by Anika Moa.  
> Check out the [gorgeous art](http://buni-in-the-sky.livejournal.com/102886.html) buni_in_the_sky drew of this story!  
> Beta-ed by Sam, whose current LJ handle is soldierly.

She knows Loki, no, _Gabriel_ , better than he thinks she does. That’s why she sees it right away. Oh, it’s subtle – contrary to what Baldur seems to think, Gabriel wouldn’t have been able to con them for such a long time if he didn’t know what subtlety means – but it’s there nonetheless.

It’s in the way he steals glances at the boy when he thinks no one is watching. In the way he interacts more with his brother than with him, as if afraid he’ll slip up and be found out.

Yes, Kali sees right away how much Gabriel cares about Sam Winchester. And how much he thinks he doesn’t deserve him.

She also sees that Gabriel’s an idiot, because if anything the boy is definitely _interested_. Not that she cares, except that Gabriel is risking his life right now so that they can all escape, and he could have just fled, or just snapped Sam to a safe place and not cared about her.

As they drive away in the Winchesters’ old car, she slips the vials of blood out of her pocket. She didn’t need to label them, just wrapping her fingers around the vials is enough for her to tell exactly whose blood is in it.

The car takes a sharp turn to the left, and she bites her lip, concentrating. She uncaps two vials, slipping Dean’s back into her pocket, and starts weaving her powers over the two others.

Blood is life. Even for beings like angels, when they take a human vessel they alter it and its blood becomes a part of them. Still, linking together the lives of two beings so different isn’t an easy task, and when she finally pours Gabriel’s blood into the vial of Sam’s, sealing the bond, she hopes she didn’t mess anything up.

She knows it the second Lucifer plunges his sword in Gabriel’s heart. The vial that still contains traces of the archangel’s blood goes cold in her hand and, on the passenger seat of the Impala, Sam inhales sharply.

“You alright, Sammy?” Dean asks, worry clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Sam breathes out. “Just - for a second there, I thought I felt some kind of pain in my chest. It’s passed now.”

“Should we get you to a doctor? We don’t exactly have time for a trip to the doctor, but then we don’t have time for you to die of a heart attack either.”

“He’s fine,” Kali says flatly. “I would feel it if Death was looming over him.”

Dean stares at her in the rearview mirror, and Sam turns to take a quick look at her, but she knows her face betrays nothing. She’s had millennia to practice, after all.

Silence falls over them, heavy and tense. She doesn’t think they know where they’re driving to, just where they’re driving from, but it doesn’t matter to her, anyway. She has her own means of travel.

They drop her off a couple hours later in a small town. She walks to the courthouse, where a large clock marks the ineluctable passage of time, the ultimate destructor. Kali throws her spirit into that representation of herself, and then she’s flying on the wings of Time, as far as she can from that Apocalypse she fears no one will be able to stop.

She still hopes she’s wrong, though. Still hopes the Winchester brothers, with the help of a gone-pagan archangel, might be able to put a halt to the Devil’s plans.

Only Time will tell.

***

They don’t stop driving for the whole night, wanting to put as much distance between them and the massacre in the Elysian Fields Motel as possible. It’s almost noon the next day when they finally get something to eat and watch the DVD Gabriel had given Dean. Sam doesn’t know what to think.

Well, that’s not entirely true. But he can’t exactly tell his brother, “You see, I was right, he’s a good guy!” Nor can he tell him how awful and depressing it feels to know that the archangel is dead, because he knows it shouldn’t feel that bad. This was the guy who’d tortured him for months in a time loop, the guy who’d trapped them in TV-land and given him genital herpes, after all. He shouldn’t feel sad beyond words.

So he just shrugs and tries to push his feelings to the back of his mind, especially the stab of jealousy the blonde girl in the film sparked in him. He has no claim over the archangel-turned-Trickster, never had one.

Since they have no lead on Pestilence, and still no news from Castiel, they decide to get some rest while they can and that they’ll figure out their next move once they’ve actually slept. Sam feels like he could sleep through a hurricane right now, and Dean doesn’t look any better.

The only motel they find is one of the cheapest they’ve ever stayed at. One of those places in which you wouldn’t be surprised if you found rats under your bed and mold in the bathtub. Sam collapses on the nearest bed, weakly kicks his shoes off and doesn’t even bother getting under the scratchy sheets before falling asleep.

***

There’s pain, pain like he never thought he’d ever feel. The physical pain of Lucifer’s sword slicing his vessel’s heart is nothing compared to the pain of his Grace unraveling, dissipating like a drop of ink in an infinite ocean, until there’s nothing of him left but his consciousness. 

Then this last part of him is yanked to some dark place, and for a moment he thinks this is it. Death, the true, definitive kind, taking him in its arms and smothering this last part of Gabriel out.

It takes him a while to realize it isn’t so. He’s still here, even if he isn’t sure where ‘here’ is, exactly. It shouldn’t be possible. There’s no after-life for angels, no Heaven. Once you’re dead you’re dead, you cease to exist. All that is you gets dispersed in the Universe.

He doesn’t understand. Gabriel hates not understanding things.

There’s a pull on his consciousness, and the archangel follows it, can’t believe it when he finds a minuscule piece of his Grace. The instant it merges with him he’s back in the dark place, but now he knows where he is.

 _Thank you Kali,_ he thinks, because who else could have done this?

He settles inside Sam’s subconscious, opens his senses to the familiar pull of the bits of his Grace and gets to work, gathering each piece he can reach one by one until the boy falls asleep.

To Gabriel, time has always been a fluid thing. But now he can feel every second that passes, regular and unavoidable. He’s not used to it. He hopes this situation won’t last for too long. He hopes at least he’ll be able to communicate with Sam when the boy finally goes to bed.

***

Sam’s dreaming. He knows this like he knows the Earth is round or the Sun rises in the East and sets in the West. He’s in a white, empty room. There’s nothing there, no furniture, no window or door, nothing but an almost familiar presence.

“Hello, kiddo.”

Sam turns around, finds the Trickster leaning against the wall. No, not the Trickster, he corrects himself.

“Gabriel?”

“The one and only.” The archangel smirks, still leaning against the wall.

“What is this, another of your tricks?” Sam accuses.

“Not one of mine,” Gabriel says, raising his hands in protest, or maybe in some kind of appeasing gesture. Sam isn’t quite sure.

“Whose, then?” Sam asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Kali's.” Gabriel shrugs. “She must have used our blood to bind me to you, to save my life. Didn’t know she could do that. I’ll have to send her a basket of flowers… or one of small animal skulls, maybe.”

“So… you’re alive, then?” Sam asks, taking a step in Gabriel’s direction.

“Strictly speaking? No. Not yet, at least. My Grace exploded in more pieces than humans have invented words for. I already got some of it back, but so very little. It’s going to take me a long time before I’m strong enough to claw myself out of that pretty head of yours.”

Sam carefully studies the archangel’s face. He seems to be telling the truth, but Gabriel is unpredictable. Why would he be lying though?

“How long?” he asks, and Gabriel sighs.

“Weeks, months, years, who knows? It’s not exactly anything that’s ever happened before, you realize that, right?”

Sam isn’t sure what he’s feeling about the idea of Gabriel potentially spending fucking _years_ in his brain.

“When you say you’re in my head, does it mean you can read my thoughts? Can you see all that I’m doing when I’m awake?”

“Why, afraid I’ll take a peek while you’re in the shower, big boy?” Gabriel raises a suggestive eyebrow at Sam.

Sam refuses to blush, because he’s a grown man, for fuck’s sake. Gabriel rolls his eyes. 

“I have no idea what’s going on when you’re awake, and I can’t actually read your thoughts, or do… anything, really. I’m stuck in here unless I feel the pull of a fragment of my Grace.”

“Okay…” Sam says slowly. “So, if I’m getting this right I’m stuck in this ‘room’ with you as long as I’m sleeping. What will we do to kill time?”

“You can’t kill Time,” Gabriel mutters, more to himself than for Sam’s sake, it seems. “It’s your subconscious, Sammy-boy, think you can conjure up some playing cards?”

It turns out Sam can. He closes his eyes, as futile as it may seem, knowing that he’s basically _dreaming_ , and when he opens them again there’s a small table with a deck of cards on it, as well as two comfortable-looking chairs.

“A fast learner, I see,” Gabriel smirks, pushing himself off the wall. He brushes past Sam as he goes sit on the nearest chair and picks up the cards, starts shuffling them.

“What do you want to play?” Sam asks as he takes the second chair. “And don’t say ‘strip-poker’.”

Gabriel pouts at Sam’s last comment.

“How about a few games of Black-Jack?”

***

“Rise and shine, Sammy!”

Dean’s voice wakes him up with a start. Sam had been in the middle of asking Gabriel what he could tell him about the two remaining Horsemen after several hours of small talk and card games, and he growls at his brother.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too,” Dean shouts as he’s locking himself in the bathroom.

Sam drags the covers over his head in a futile attempt to pretend it isn’t morning yet. But he won’t go back to sleep, he knows that. With a groan that morphs into a long yawn, he sits up.

“Damn,” he mutters as he realizes he slept in his clothes. He raises an arm to his nose. “I stink,” he says flatly. “Dean, you better not use up all the hot water!”

Sam digs through his duffle bag for clean clothes, throws them on the bed. Then he peels his clothes off (is that blood on his shirt?) and puts them in the plastic bag he keeps his dirty laundry in.

They’ll need to stop at a Laundromat soon. Because Apocalypse or no Apocalypse, they’ll be out of clean shirts pretty soon.

Sam can hear the shower running, so as he waits he takes a closer look at the room they’re staying in.

The beds are ridiculously small, and he wonders how he managed not to fall off in his sleep. The wallpaper is ugly and stained, peeling off in places. The back of one of the chairs is broken.

One thing is certain: they’re not staying here for another night.

The sound of the shower stops, and not long after Dean steps out of the bathroom, a towel around his hips and water dripping everywhere.

The water turns cold in the middle of Sam’s shower. Dean makes it up to him by stopping in a real, fancy coffee shop for breakfast. They settle at a table with their warm coffees and enough food to feed an entire family – they didn’t take the time to eat the previous night, too exhausted – and Sam clears his throat.

“So, you know how we said there’d be no secrets between us anymore?” Sam says, and Dean looks up from his blueberry muffin with an accusing frown. “Well, Gabriel’s alive. Sort of.”

“What?” Dean sets the muffin down. “What the hell are you talking about, Sam?”

Sam sighs. He _knows_ it wasn’t all just a dream, but what if Dean doesn’t believe him? Could he really blame him? This whole situation sounds insane. He takes a deep breath.

“Apparently, Kali did something that, um, bound him. To me. So now he’s sort of still alive, but in my head.”

Dean frowns, opens his mouth to say something, closes it, then does it again a few times. Rendering Dean speechless isn’t an easy thing to do.

“I know, it sounds a bit crazy. Okay, _a lot_ crazy, and I’m not sure I understand it all completely. But now Gabriel’s spirit, or… consciousness or whatever, is stuck in my head until he manages to piece his Grace back together. Hey, don’t look at me like that, there's nothing I can do about it! And there's nothing he can do, either.”

“Huh,” Dean finally says, but he’s still looking at Sam like he thinks he’s a complete idiot that can’t be trusted. “So is he, like, in there with you? Listening to every word we say and making snarky comments and stuff?”

Sam shakes his head. “I can’t hear him, and he told me he wasn’t aware of anything while I’m awake. We can only communicate with each other in my dreams.”

“And you believe him?” Dean accuses.

“I think I do,” Sam says defensively. “The guy seemed pretty annoyed by the whole being-stuck-in-my-head thing.”

“So what now, we’re supposed to go looking for his Grace for him? We don’t have time to run errands for a bratty, _dead_ archangel, Sammy!”

“Dean!” Sam shushes him.

They’re starting to draw attention to themselves, which is never a good thing. Dean lowers his voice, but he still looks mightily pissed off.

“We don’t have time for this crap.”

“We don’t have to do anything, Dean. Gabriel’s already working on it. It’s nothing like what happened with Anna’s Grace anyway, he didn’t rip it off, it was destroyed, broken into tiny pieces. I don’t think _we_ would be able to do anything to help.”

“And how will Gabriel find these Grace pieces if he’s stuck in your head?”

“I don’t know, but somehow he does!”

Dean gives him a pointed look, crossing his arms on his chest. Sam rolls his eyes, then digs in his cheesecake, putting an end to the conversation more surely than Dean’s silence would have.

They finish their breakfast without another word, then hit the road. Sam doesn’t ask where they’re going, though Dean doesn’t seem to be just driving straight ahead anymore, which tells him he’s got a destination in mind.

The silence is boring, and Sam lets himself drift off to sleep.

“Back already? Gabriel asks, raising an eyebrow. “Missed me that much?”

The archangel is lounging in his chair, feet propped on the table. Sam shrugs, drops on the other chair. He pushes Gabriel’s feet off, and Gabriel rolls his eyes but complies and lowers his feet to the white ground.

“Dean’s driving,” Sam explains. “I guess I still had some sleep to catch up on.”

“Did you tell him?” Gabriel asks, and it looks as if he’s just thought of something, something _important_.

“Yeah, he thinks you’re up to something and I’m an idiot for thinking you’re telling the truth.”

“Pff, I _wish_ he was right,” Gabriel whines. But then he sobers up. “Did you tell him while you were in the car?”

“No, over breakfast, why?” Sam frowns.

“Did you mention me at all once you got back in the Impala? Think hard, Sam, it’s important.”

“We barely even spoke afterwards, _why_?” he asks again.

“Your car is bugged.”

***

“ _What?_ ” Dean asks, looking horrified. “What do you mean, bugged?”

They’ve stopped at a gas station, Sam pretending he had to go to the toilets when he woke up. He then proceeded to drag Dean out of the car, signaling him not to say anything, and they stepped a reasonable distance away from the Impala.

“Gabriel noticed it when he was hiding out after Kali thought she’d killed him. Didn’t say anything at the time, because there were more pressing matters at hand. Though he pretends he left us a warning in the DVD, if we’d just watched a little bit longer.”

Dean cringes. “Yeah, how convenient!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I yelled at him when he told me that. Well, at least now we know, right?”

Dean grunts, kicks a rock, and Sam guesses he’s more than likely more pissed about someone messing with his precious Impala than about Gabriel holding out on them.

“Do we know who did it? Or what we’re looking for, even?”

“Probably a demon. Which might explain how Lucifer found us at the Elysian Fields Motel. We _have_ to get rid of this thing, and fast. Gabriel said it looks like an antique coin, and it’s somewhere on the back seat.”

“Fuck,” Dean says. “Sam, whoever’s listening in knows we’re going to go after the Horsemen.”

“Damn,” Sam says. “That means we can’t get rid of the bug. Not yet, at least.”

“What, are you crazy?” Dean hisses. “Sam, this thing is _dangerous_ , we won’t be safe as long as it’s in my baby!”

“But we can use it to our advantage,” Sam argues. “Feed whoever’s listening false info. Make them think we’ve changed our plan.”

Dean stops pacing, narrows his eyes like he’s actually considering Sam’s idea.

“All right. But we better get back now, because that’s one hell of a long potty-break we’ve been taking. We’ll think of a plan of action when we stop for lunch.”

Sam nods, and they walk back to the car. As they both slide in, Sam groans.

“Seriously Dean, it’s the last time I let you order our food.”

Dean sticks his tongue out at his brother, but plays along.

“Ah, but it was a delicious chili! I regret nothing!”

“Maybe _you_ don’t…” Sam grunts, but drops the pretend-argument.

Dean gives him a thumbs-up for good thinking and turns the key in the ignition.

***

Crowley sighs. Listening in on the Winchester brothers is ten percent excitement and ninety percent boredom. After the big “we need to find the two remaining Horsemen” talk, they’ve barely even spoken to each other.

Steve trots over to him, puts his giant head on the demon’s lap, and Crowley starts scratching him behind the ears. Hellhounds might be pretty ugly – at least from a human point of view, not that humans can see them, anyway – but they can be surprisingly affectionate once you've won them over.

“You know,” Crowley says, “I really thought that was our chance, the other night. The bloody archangel Gabriel turning up, seeming to be thinking about joining these two even though he pretended he wouldn’t. I thought it would have tipped the balance, and you and me could have finally gotten out of this dump.”

With an archangel at their side, the Winchesters would have had a real chance at winning this little crusade of theirs, and Crowley could have made his move. But no, the archangel had to up and _die_ on them!

Well, at least he’d given them a plan, so who knows, maybe they’ll manage to trap Lucifer back in his cage?

The Listening Coin starts emitting again, which means the Winchesters are back from their lunch break. Absentmindedly patting his Hellhound, Crowley turns his attention back to what’s happening.

“I know you want to think there’s hope,” Sam’s voice is saying. “But honestly, I don’t think Gabriel’s plan is doable. Okay, we got lucky with War, and Famine made a stupid mistake, but how the hell are we supposed to kill _Death_? Not to mention finding him, or Pestilence.”

“What are you saying, Sammy?” Dean practically shouts, and Steve’s ears flatten on his massive head. “That we should just give up?”

“Maybe,” Sam snaps back. “Maybe there’s no use fighting off Destiny. Gabriel’s dead, Castiel’s obviously not coming back at this point, it’s just the two of us left!”

“And how is just saying yes a plan? Whoever wins this angelic pissing contest will destroy the world, one way or another.”

“Not if we make a deal. Make a deal with Michael. Tell him we’ll both say yes and they can have their fight _if_ he gives his word he won’t destroy the Earth.”

“You’re insane,” Dean says, but Crowley’s horrified to hear a note of hesitation in the elder Winchester’s voice.

“Just… just think about it, okay?” Sam asks, his voice calmer. 

He too must have noticed Dean’s hesitation, then.

Dean doesn’t say anything, but there’s the sound of a door being slammed shut, the jingle of keys.

“What if Lucifer wins?” Dean asks softly.

“I guess it’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Sam says. “Dean, we have no lead, no ally, no fucking alternative.” His voice is calm and matter-of-factly.

Crowley swears loudly, getting up and slamming his hands on the table. Steve backs off, whining.

“Stupid Winchesters!”

He then proceeds to make some phone calls. He has less time than he thought he had if he doesn’t want these bloody idiots to give up.

***

With every piece of his Grace he finds – or every piece that finds him, he isn’t sure which way it really is – Gabriel feels a little bit more like himself. Oh, he’s far from being his old self again, power-wise, but he feels more whole.

The Dream Room, as he’s taken to think of it, is starting to get boring, however. He’s done every solitary card game he could think of, then proceeded to build a house of cards. He’s not very good at it, though. He’s never had to rely on his hands only to build things.

This place might not be in the physical realm, human limitations still apply to it. Gabriel thinks it’s because that’s how Sam thinks. In his imagination, the world is still orderly, obeying the laws of physics. He’ll need to teach the boy how to think differently.

Gabriel focuses all of his meager Grace, pushes it to do one of the simplest things ever: move one of the chairs by telekinesis.

For a long time, nothing happens, but the archangel doesn’t waver, keeps pushing. Eventually, the chair moves. Not more than a few millimeters, but it moves. Gabriel laughs, relieved. Being able to do something so simple in a place that isn’t even real shouldn’t feel that good, but he doesn’t care.

He’s getting his powers back. Slowly, _extremely_ slowly, but getting them back. Only now can he admit to himself he wasn’t entirely sure that he would. That he wouldn’t be stuck in here forever, entirely depending on Sam’s whims until the boy died. And then, what would have happened to him?

What _will_ happen to him if Sam dies before he’s powerful enough to get out of his head? Will he die too, disappear into nothingness, or will he stay as he currently is, only drifting through the world, unanchored, lost?

“Come on Gabriel, stop thinking like that,” he chastises himself. “Sam’s not going to die any time soon. If there’s one thing you know for sure about the boy it’s that he’s got an uncanny ability to stay alive… even when he dies. Not that it’s happened that often either.”

He sits on one of the chairs, looks at the table. It’s a pretty simple table, made of cheap wood. It’s a bit battered by time, scarred in places. It tells a lot about Sam that when he thinks about a table, he comes up with something cheap and old. Something you’d find in a crappy motel.

Gabriel will have to introduce him to the concept of luxury, at some point.

There’s that pull on his Grace again, and Gabriel lets himself go happily. The piece of Grace he finds shines in his mind as it merges with the rest of his being. Then Gabriel’s back in the Dream Room.

But he’s not alone.

“What was that?” Sam asks, almost whispers. He’s looking at Gabriel as if he’s grown a second head… a _beautiful_ and mesmerizing second head.

“Just got a piece of myself back,” Gabriel smirks. “What did it look like to you?” he asks, curious.

“You, um, glowed. Just for a second. Like you were surrounded by a halo of power and, um, light? Except it was clearly coming from you. A part of you.”

“Well, just you wait until I got my whole Grace back,” Gabriel smiles. “Now _that_ will be a lightshow.” He winks at Sam, and the boy almost blushes.

“So,” Sam says, sitting in the opposing chair, “what happened here?” He points towards the cards scattered around the floor.

“I got bored,” he says simply. He’s not going to admit to failing at building a house of cards.

Sam tells him what happened when he told Dean about the bug, and Gabriel must say, these boys are clever. They’ll still need to get rid of it, because they don’t know if it can be used to find out their location, but they’ll wait a couple of days so it doesn’t seem too suspicious.

“Dean was really pissed at you though,” Sam says. “You _could_ have thrown the coin away when you found it. Or you know, told us in the DVD _before_ you got rid of all your clothes.”

“Aaah, so you watched!” Gabriel smirks.

He thoroughly enjoys watching Sam blush and stammer out that it was just to check that Gabriel was telling the truth.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grins, then adds, leering, “Hey, Sammy-boy?”

“What?” Sam asks, holding his breath as Gabriel leans closer over the table.

“How about you make this place a little less boring?” Gabriel says, raising an amused eyebrow. “After all, you might only be there for a few hours, and I know my company can be very… entertaining, but I spend much more time here all by myself.”

“Oh,” Sam says, like he hadn’t thought of it. “Sure, sorry. What would you like?”

“Well, a comfortable couch, for one. These chairs are a bit dull. Maybe books, or a TV? Something to do when I’m all by my old self. I trust your judgment, kiddo, surprise me!”

Sam nods and closes his eyes. He probably doesn’t have do it, but hey, if it helps him concentrate, then why not? Several things start materializing in the room, one after another.

The couch comes first, and though it’s much simpler than anything Gabriel would have come up with, it still looks quite nice. It’s long, too, probably long enough that Sam could lie down on it and not have his feet dangling out. 

The TV set comes second, and again it’s not the giant flat screen Gabriel would have chosen. It’s still a fairly large television by Winchester standard he guesses, and it comes with a DVD player. The remote control finds its place on one of the armrests of the couch.

Then there are the two shelves, full of books and DVDs, and Gabriel is curious to find out what Sam thought he might enjoy reading or watching. He hopes the boy thought of including some porn.

He’s not expecting the thick carpet that comes next, nor the paintings that suddenly hang on the walls. Landscapes. One of mountains, one of a long, golden beach, and Gabriel’s instant favorite: a green, lush forest.

Sam is watching his reaction with a shy smile, he notices, and he smiles back. It’s surprisingly thoughtful of him to have brightened the place up a bit. The room feels less claustrophobic that way.

“Thank you,” Gabriel says, and means it.

They end up spending a few hours watching _Friends_ , sitting on the couch – which is actually quite comfortable. The boy has a laugh that’s just _magnificent_ , and Gabriel can’t help but be drawn in by it.

They’re sitting closer than the size of the couch really warrants, and it feels good. 

When they get to the end of the second DVD they turn the TV off and start chatting. Sam tells him how worried he is about Castiel, and how Dean’s not coping well with the angel’s absence. Gabriel reassures him that the banishing sigil shouldn’t have killed Castiel, though it might have precipitated his Fall. 

He also mentions that Dean should have manned up way earlier and told Castiel how he’s madly in love with him. To his surprise, Sam smiles at that, agreeing that Dean’s been a real idiot on that one.

Twice while Sam is here with him he feels the pull of a piece of his Grace. Sam tells him that when he follows it he doesn’t actually leave, at least not that Sam can see. He just closes his eyes a second, and then his Grace glows.

When the boy tells him that, there’s that strange, admiring tone in his voice, like it’s the most beautiful and mysterious thing he’s ever seen.

Gabriel can tell when Sam’s about to wake up. It’s like he’s flickering in and out of the room, and for a second Gabriel think he hears the echo of Dean’s voice against the white walls. It’s the first time since he’s here that he can catch a glimpse of the real world, and it’s actually more reassuring than he thought it would be.

“Be careful out there,” he tells Sam just before the boy disappears.

Gabriel is alone in the room again. He sighs, lifts his feet on the couch and lies back, watching the immaculate ceiling. He’s going to be sick of all that white.

Spending so much time with Sam, he doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, if Kali was being kind or evil to him. The more of his Grace he gets back, the more it sings to him every time they touch, every time Sam’s smile is directed at him. He wants to lean in, to bask in the warmth of Sam’s body, in the warmth of his soul, tainted as it is.

After all, Gabriel’s Grace is tainted too. He can feel it, now that he’s paying attention to every tiny bit of it. His centuries playing a pagan god did not leave him untouched. The sacrifices, the worshiping, the summons: he drew power from them, to sustain his Grace while remaining hidden from his brethren, and it changed him, changed his very Grace. Yet he’s still him, just like Sam is still Sam, kind and passionate and righteous, oh so righteous.

He collects another bit of his Grace (the pull is much more frequent when Sam isn’t here) then gets up, takes a long look at the shelves. He’s disappointed by the lack of porn, but he supposes that if he asks Sam the next time the boy will indulge him, though he’ll probably make a comment about how he’d better not be jacking off just when Sam arrives.

Oh, great, now he’s aroused. Thinking of Sam walking in on him, watching him… alright, stopping now. Sam would probably just be embarrassed or angry, anyway.

Gabriel picks up a book, hoping it’ll help him cool off some. He settles back on the couch with the heavy volume of _The Never-Ending Story_. He’s never read it before, and he’s hoping it’ll keep him busy for a while.

***

Dean doesn’t really want to know what Sam and Gabriel talked about for the whole night. Sam doesn’t seem to have woken up with tons of new, amazing knowledge about either the supernatural or angels in general, so he hasn’t been pumping the archangel for information, like he should have.

Dean winces as his tired mind conjures up an image of Sam _pumping_ Gabriel in a completely inappropriate way. _Oh, thank you brain, very helpful._

He didn’t sleep well. He kept an ear out to listen to Sam’s deep breathing, ready to wake him up if anything sounded wrong to him. When nothing seemed to be happening, Dean’s thoughts went to Castiel, and he wondered again with anguish what had become of him.

Dean hands Sam a cup of strong, bitter coffee when he comes out of the bathroom. Sam yawns and thanks him, then leans against the kitchen counter with his cup in his hand.

“Gabriel thinks Castiel is still alive,” he says calmly, and Dean’s heart starts dancing happily in his chest.

“Really?” he asks, not even caring how openly hopeful he must sound.

Sam nods and takes a sip of his coffee, wincing at the bitterness of it.

“He’s not _entirely_ sure, of course, since what he did doesn’t exactly happen every day,” Sam adds, opening the fridge to take the milk out, pours some in his coffee in the hope it’ll make it better (it won’t, Dean tried that already). “But the banishing sigil is not supposed to be able to kill. He says that it could have precipitated Castiel’s Fall though.”

“So Cas could be human now? Lost somewhere, maybe without any memory of his past life?” Anna didn’t remember anything from before her human life after all. But Anna had ripped off her Grace, part of herself, while Castiel’s juice had just ran out.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look and squeezes his shoulder. “I don’t know, man. I hope not.”

Once they’ve finished their awful coffee and the rest of last night’s pizza, they hit the road again. They’re going to go to Bobby’s, because they need to find a lead on either Pestilence or Death, and Bobby might be damn good at this research thing but this is huge and he can certainly use a hand. They can’t take a too direct road though, because there’s the risk of the bug also being a tracking device, so they’ll need to get rid of it soon.

Later, in the afternoon, as they’re on the interstate, Dean asks Sam if he didn’t forget to take Ruby’s knife from under his pillow before they left. Sam snaps that no, he didn’t forget, and Dean tells him he better not have, because it’s one of the most powerful weapons they have and they still have most of Hell’s demons on their ass.

“You think I don’t know that?” Sam says. “I didn’t forget it, I put it on the back seat this morning. You were right next to me.”

“I don’t remember that,” Dean snaps back. “I’m telling you, you did _not_ open the back seat door this morning. Don’t tell me we have to turn back!”

“We don’t have to turn back,” Sam groans. “If you don’t believe me, just pull over and I’ll show you.”

“Fine!” 

“Fine!” Sam repeats.

They stop, and Sam opens the back door, slides in. “Must have slipped somewhere,” he says as he actually looks for the coin. “Hey, where did this come from?”

“What’s that?” Dean asks, and Sam hands him the coin. “Not one of mine,” he says, “never seen it before.”

“Me neither. Dean, that can’t be good.”

“Someone must have planted it. Let’s get rid of it.”

“Wait, we can’t just throw it in a field,” Sam protests. "What if it’s dangerous?”

“Sam, we’ve got enough things to worry about,” Dean says. “I’m not giving you a choice here.” 

He opens his window, is about to throw the coin as far away as possible, when Sam yelps.

“There’s no need to do that, Dean,” a somewhat-familiar voice says from the backseat.

Dean turns around to find the demon Crowley sitting next to where Sam is still kneeling on the leather seat.

“You!” he says, accusingly.

“Yeah, me. Sorry about that, but I had to keep an eye on you to know if you’d succeeded in killing Lucifer. Saved my life, that thing. My house exploded exactly four minutes after I fled. Seems the devil wasn’t that happy about my trying to help you, even if it didn’t work.”

“What do you want?” Sam groans, and Crowley looks at him like he’s absolutely not impressed, though Sam’s pointing Ruby’s knife at him.

“But - to help, of course!”

***

Convincing the Winchesters he really is on their side proves to be difficult. Of course, he can’t exactly tell them _all_ the reasons he has to help them put the Devil back in his box – somehow he doubts they’d approve of his plans to take over Hell.

The fact that he knows how to find Pestilence is a huge plus, however. He thinks he finally has the upper hand there, except for the whole insisting that Sam doesn’t come with them thing.

“This demon who knows where Pestilence is, he’s still going to be there tomorrow, right?” Sam asks eventually.

“Should be. But what is waiting until tomorrow going to change? I’m not changing my mind about it, I don’t want you with us. Can’t take the risk of Lucifer’s minions getting their hands on you.”

“Sammy,” Dean frowns, “I hope you’re not thinking what I’m thinking you're thinking.”

“Just want to cover all our options, that’s all.”

“And why didn’t you do this last time?”

“I didn’t think it was so urgent. The whole situation is not exactly easy, you know?”

Crowley can feel the tension building between the brothers. It would be amusing if he had any idea what they’re talking about, but he doesn’t have a clue. He listens carefully, but they manage to have a whole argument without giving anything away. When did they become so smart?

“Boys, boys,” he says after a while. “As entertaining as this is, if you don’t make up your mind now we’ll _have_ to wait until tomorrow. And who knows what terrible thing could happen in the meantime.”

“I really think we should wait,” Sam says. “But if you’re okay with going just with him and leaving me behind, then go ahead.”

Dean’s face is conflicted, and Crowley would almost feel hurt by the way he looks at him if he ever felt hurt at all.

“Tic, tic, time is passing, and the Apocalypse isn’t going to wait just for you two to make up your minds.” Crowley knows he’s pushing, but he’d just like them to _get on with it_ already.

Sam raises an eyebrow at Dean, who sighs.

“Meet us here tomorrow morning.”

“You’re joking right?” Crowley asks, but Dean looks serious as Hell. “Alright, you’re not joking. Well, I hope for your sake our demon friend will still be there tomorrow.”

Crowley slips into the shadows between the worlds, slides back to his current hideout. It’s an abandoned house, covered in mold and full of rats. You’d think the presence of the King of the Crossroads and one of the biggest Hellhounds that’s ever breathed would scare the little bastards away, but no.

Steve raises his head from the rag that used to be a carpet, gives a low growl in welcome. Crowley pats his head on his way to the old couch and sits down, carefully avoiding the spring spurting out. He stares at the chimney and a fire roars to life.

As he watches the flames dance in the fireplace, Crowley revises once again his plan to take over Hell.

***

“This book is _dreadful_ ,” Gabriel whines as soon as Sam appears in the room.

The archangel is lying on the couch, one arm dramatically thrown over his eyes while the other one is clenching a heavy book.

“That _The Never-Ending Story_?” Sam asks, grinning. “You’ve been trying to read it the whole day?”

“I kept putting it down in disgust, then picking it back up because I hate admitting defeat, and also I want to know how it ends. _If_ it ever ends!”

Sam huffs in amusement as he pushes Gabriel’s feet off the couch and sits down. The archangel doesn’t even bother sitting up, just puts his feet back up, right in Sam’s lap.

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t try to push them off. He doubts he can take on an irritated archangel.

“Oh, it ends. Though I’m not sure I remember how exactly. I read it a long time ago out of sheer stubbornness, and I remember wanting to hang myself on several occasions during the two months it took me to get to the end of it.”

Gabriel grunts, and it sounds a bit like agreement. The archangel wiggles his feet on Sam’s lap. He’s taken off his shoes and socks at some point, and Sam can’t help staring.

“You have very small feet,” he says, just because it’s true.

“Well, we can’t all have freakishly gigantic feet, you know,” Gabriel snorts, wiggling his toes. “Though I assure you, not every part of me is small,” he adds with a wink.

“Gabriel,” Sam chastises him. 

This isn’t exactly the time for trivial flirty comments. Not that he thinks Gabriel is honestly flirting with him, even though the idea makes him slightly tingling. Or that could just be Gabriel’s bare feet mere inches from his crotch.

“So, how was today?” Gabriel asks, changing the subject. “Did you get rid of the Listening Coin all right?”

“Well, not exactly. But we did find out who planted it.”

Gabriel pushes himself up on his elbows, turning all his attention on Sam.

“Do tell,” he says, and his face is serious.

So Sam tells him. He tells him how Crowley had given them back the Colt and how that had turned out, and he tells him how the demon said he could get them someone who could tell them where Pestilence is, and how for some reason he doesn’t want Sam to come along.

Gabriel listens patiently, asking a few questions for clarification now and then. His feet have stopped moving on Sam’s lap and the angel is now frowning slightly.

“Crowley, Crowley… I’ve heard of him. Ambitious little bastard, managed to get quite up the demonic food chain in very little time. Can’t believe he’d risk pissing off Lucifer and the whole of Hell without having a bigger endgame than saving his skin. I don’t think you can trust him in the long run, not that I think you’d be stupid enough to trust a demon.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, because him trusting a demon is one of the things that put them all in this damn mess in the first time.

“As for finding Pestilence, well, I’m sure Death would be happy to help you with that.”

“Death? Why would Death _help us_?”

“Well, Death has been around since before the very first of us was created. I think he’s probably as old as Dad. I doubt he’s very happy with being bound to Luci’s will. Plus, if the world ends, he’s kind of out of a job.” Gabriel shrugs.

“Okay, so Death might give us his ring instead of making us kill him for it, if we even _could_ kill Death. But we have no idea where he is, while Crowley has a lead on Pestilence.”

“But it’s easy to find Death,” Gabriel says. “Well, maybe not _easy_ , but totally doable, if you have the right tools and ingredients. And you know the ritual, of course. Which only archangels do.”

“Ritual?” Sam’s pretty sure his face is the picture of shock and disbelief. “And you didn’t mention this because…?”

“I had kind of forgotten?” the archangel says sheepishly. “I was never taught the ritual, I just _know_ it, like it’s a part of me. I guess it must have been a part of my Grace, because I only remembered it after I got that last bit, not long before you showed up.”

Sam’s not entirely sure he believes him. But the archangel looks slightly embarrassed, though he’s trying to hide it. And what does he have to lose, after all?

“You sure you remember all of it then?” he asks slowly.

“Yup,” Gabriel nods, and there is no gleam of mischief in his eyes, just assurance and honesty.

“Then show me.”

***

“This is insane.” 

Dean shakes his head, looking at the circles and symbols on the floor and the mess of herbs and stones Sam is currently sorting through. They’re in an abandoned warehouse basically in the middle of nowhere.

It took them a while to find an appropriate place to do this and to get together all the stuff they’d need. They also had to get rid of Crowley, who wasn’t happy that they’d turned down his offer to help for no apparent reason.

Sam seems to be pretty sure he got everything right, and he better be. The first thing he did when he woke up two days ago was grab paper and start writing and drawing symbols, and the next night he checked it all with Gabriel again.

Dean’s not sure which part of this plan is the most crazy. Trusting Gabriel on the specifics for a ritual to summon Death, or trusting him when he says Death will want to help them out. This could all still be a trick, some sort of long-con he would have been working for Lucifer… except Lucifer doesn’t want them dead. Well, doesn’t want Sam dead, at least.

“You going to stand there and stare at me until I’m finished or you’re going to help me out?” Sam asks, dragging Dean back to the present.

“Insane,” Dean says again, softly, before picking up a bag of black sand and tracing a circle with it just outside the largest of Sam’s chalk circles.

He doesn’t have to look up to know his brother’s rolling his eyes at him.

They put the stones in different places, checking their orientation with a compass, add a bowl of water inside the second circle, and light two candles. Then, standing out of the concentric circles, they burn the herbs one by one.

There are no words to this ritual, no incantation or summoning chant or whatnot. As if it were older than human speech, maybe even older than angel speech.

The air starts to swirl inside the inner-circle, wrapping around itself, twisting and slowly taking the shape of a man with skin pale as bones and eyes so dark they seem to dim the light in the warehouse.

Death crosses his long fingers in front of him, laying his calm eyes on the two brothers.

“This is… unexpected,” he says, voice calm and low, ancient and powerful.

When none of them drops dead under this terrifying stare, Dean takes a small step forward.

“So, you know who we are, right?”

“Of course,” Death says. “And I know what you want.” The ring on his finger seems to shine.

“Will you give it to us?”

Death cocks his head on the side.

“I was expecting threats. What makes you think I will just give it to you?” His eyes focus on Sam. “Or rather, who?”

Sam gulps. Dean can hear the sound of it, loud in the empty, silent warehouse.

“Ha!” Death barks, and Dean thinks the cold, sharp sound might be some sort of laugh. “Of course. So _that’s_ how he escaped me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean snaps. His nerves are on edge and he just wants this whole thing to be over. “So is he right? Will you help us?”

Death nods, a slow, terrifying movement that sends shivers running up Dean’s spine. The Horseman slides his ring off, puts it down on the concrete floor.

“When you face him, you cannot hesitate,” he says, voice so cold Dean can feel it in his bones. “You must do whatever it takes.” A heavy silence weights in the warehouse following Death’s words.

After the two longest minutes of Dean’s life, Death speaks again.

“You will find the last ring in Serenity Valley,” he says before the air around him starts to twist and twirl.

Then they are alone in the empty warehouse, and Dean lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, the cold pressure against his chest lifting.

Sam walks into the circles, spreading the black sand on the way, then picks up the ring. It gleams ominously in his hand.

***

There is pain everywhere, in every muscle of his vessel, every tendril of his Grace, every tiny bit of his entire being. For a moment that’s all Castiel knows, the pain. It burns through him, withers his already-battered Grace and renders his body useless. 

There are voices around him, quiet and reassuring. He tries to move but it hurts too much, so he settles on opening his eyes instead. Light blinds him and he has to blink a few times before the big white _something_ above him becomes a ceiling.

“Dean…” he croaks, and his voice cracks.

There’s a man hovering over him, but it’s not Dean, the silhouette is all wrong. He squints, makes out brown eyes and blondish hair that are starting to turn grey. The man’s mouth is moving, and it occurs to Castiel that the sounds assaulting his ears are actually words.

The doctor, for it is a doctor, is asking him all sorts of questions. Castiel tries to answer a few, concentrating on the words helps keep the pain at bay. But he’s learned enough about humans now that he knows not to tell the truth.

The doctor leaves eventually, and Castiel is left with nothing to do but feel the pain. He tries to use his powers to heal his vessel, but it only results in a sharp, bright pain stabbing through him. His Grace was shredded by the banishing sigil, he realizes. It’s still here, otherwise he wouldn’t be himself anymore, but it’s in pieces. Useless. He can’t tap into it. 

It’s almost as if he's human now.

Hours pass and he learns to push the pain at the back of his mind. It still takes him a whole day before he thinks he’s strong enough to fly away from here without it killing him. He finds his cell phone and dials Dean’s number.

Dean’s voice sounds surprised and relieved as he answers.

“Cas! God, I was so worried about you, what happened?”

“Hello Dean. I am glad to hear you are still you. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, I should have.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean sounds a bit embarrassed, and Castiel imagines him rubbing his neck, turning his back on Sam or whoever is with him. “Listen, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I am in a hospital. My Grace is almost burned out. I feel… human.”

“Yeah, we were afraid that would happen. I’m sorry, man.”

There’s an awkward silence between them, and it tells a lot about Castiel’s current condition that he realizes it’s awkward.

“Where are you?” he asks, eventually. “I think I can _mojo_ my way back to you. Probably.”

“’Probably’? Cas, don’t take unnecessary risks, okay? If you can’t, we’ll come and get you.”

There’s a warm feeling in Castiel’s chest when he hears the note of concern in Dean’s voice.

“If I can’t, I won't push myself and I’ll call you back. I give you my word.”

“We’re at Bobby’s, gearing up to go after Pestilence.”

“I will be there shortly.”

Castiel closes his phone, then carefully sits up. Dressing up turns out to be an interesting experience, but clothes are fortunately not too complicated to put on. He does try to put his right foot in the left shoe, though.

Once he’s done, he closes his eyes, concentrates on his battered Grace. He manages to get hold of a few tendrils, wraps them carefully around him, then _pushes_.

He’s flying. The world moves around him as he glides over the fabric of reality. It’s a slower process than it usually is, but Castiel’s glad that he can fly at all.

When the world materializes back under his feet his head starts spinning. There is no one in the living room, no one to see him waver and hold on to the back of the couch for support. He can hear voices though, and once he feels steady enough he follows them to the kitchen.

Bobby and Sam are turning their backs to him but Dean sees him right away. His face lights up and he says his name, putting down the phone he was clutching hard only seconds again.

“Cas! I was starting to think you hadn’t pulled it off.”

Sam turns to him, gives him an awkward but sincere smile. Bobby swears as he hits the kitchen table turning his wheelchair around to glare at him.

“Took you long enough!” He grunts, but there’s something soft in his eyes that makes the corners of Castiel’s lips tug up.

“I apologize,” Castiel says, nodding at all of them. “Flying turned out to take longer than usual. To be honest, getting here probably took most of what little Grace I had left.”

Sam is slightly frowning, like he’s trying to figure something out. Castiel realizes that he can’t see the boy’s tainted soul anymore, can’t see how the demon blood marrs him, and it’s sort of a relief.

Dean walks up to him, puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly.

“Glad to have you back, Cas.”

Castiel nods, and Dean smiles softly at him before dropping his hand.

“You’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Bobby tells him, “so pay attention.”

***

Gabriel concentrates, and the white floor turns to polished wood under his naked feet. A grin spreads on his face and he turns the TV Sam had made him into a giant 75” flat screen, adding speakers at the four corners of the room.

“Much better.”

He’s gotten at least half of his Grace back already, he thinks, though these kind of things are hard to tell. Turns out, the more Grace he has, the more he seems to ‘attract’ the bits of his Grace that are floating around. He’s getting stronger and stronger every hour.

Gabriel flops down on the couch, closes his eyes to get another piece of himself back. Then he snaps and the TV turns on. He didn’t really think about what he wanted to watch, his thoughts wandering off to Sam as they often tend to do ever since he’s there.

He’s a bit surprised to see Sam appear on the screen.

The image is flat, like any human-made movie would be. Gabriel can’t see Sam’s soul, nor can he see past the human flesh of the man currently pushing him off, shoving him against a wall.

The image dims, as if someone had pulled a dark screen in front of his vision, but he can still see Castiel’s form lunging at the stranger, holding him with difficulty as Dean throws him the demon-killing knife.

Castiel twists the man’s arm, cuts a couple of his fingers off. There’s the metallic sound of a ring falling on the floor and the man crumbles, spitting off idle threats as life seeps out of him.

Pestilence, Gabriel guesses. Good, they got him. And Castiel is back, too, though he’s not using his powers as he helps Sam back up. Gabriel wishes he could see the state of his Grace, help mend it back together. For the first time since he’s been in Sam’s head he feels frustrated not because of something he can’t do for himself, but because of something he can’t do for someone else.

The black filter on the TV screen gradually lifts up as the trio makes their way back to the van where Bobby Singer is waiting for them, the Colt pointing at the building door.

Gabriel had no idea the hunter was in a wheelchair. The shock of this revelation and the sudden need to _help_ that fills him for the second time in a few minutes would have almost made him dizzy had he not gotten so much of his Grace back.

He watches them drive back to Bobby’s, talking softly amongst themselves about what their next step should be. They need to find out where they can open the cage, and figure out a way to get Lucifer there. 

Gabriel flickers off for a second to get another piece of his Grace, and is he imagining things or are the pieces bigger than they used to be? It’s almost as if they clung and merged together as they made their way back to the archangel.

He misses the beginning of the sentence, but Sam’s last words have him focus all his attention to the screen.

“… if I say yes.”

“Are you _insane_?!” Dean shouts, and Gabriel finds himself agreeing with the older Winchester.

“Bobby _did_ manage to get control back on his own body when he was possessed,” Sam argues.

“It was a demon, not _the Devil_ , you idjit!” Bobby growls from the back seat. “What I did was a one-chance-in-a-million thing, I got lucky. There’s no way to know that it would work for you.”

“It’s too risky, Sammy,” Dean insists, knuckles white as he clenches the wheel.

“Then propose something else, Dean!”

“Maybe your new boyfriend will have another brilliant idea,” Dean grits out, and Sam turns to him with wide eyes and red cheeks – whether they’re red from anger of embarrassment, Gabriel can’t tell.

“He’s not my _boyfriend_!” he shouts, indignant.

“I do not think it is a good idea, Sam,” Castiel says calmly. “I cannot guarantee Lucifer wouldn’t know Gabriel’s in you when looking at you.”

Gabriel chuckles at Castiel’s choice of words. He would love to be _in_ Sam. He would love it very much.

Thankfully Sam agrees not to do anything rash until he’s spoken with Gabriel, and the rest of the ride is silent and tense and, quite frankly, boring. Gabriel chases more fragments of his Grace and makes an impressive house of cards using his newly recovered powers while the television keeps showing him Sam’s elegant profile.

He’s redecorating the walls, switching them from pale orange to bright yellow to dark read, trying to make up his mind, when they finally get to Bobby’s. Everyone seems exhausted and Sam calls dibs on the shower, which automatically get Gabriel’s attention.

The archangel leaves the walls painted in different colors and flops down on the couch, eyes focused on the TV screen.

Sam is slowly getting undressed in the bathroom, tiredness written all over each of his movements. His body is just as gorgeous as Gabriel had imagined. Centuries spent as a pagan deity have left him with a passion for material beauty that most of his brethrens would not understand. And even though he’s attracted by Sam’s soul and spirit, he knows he’s going to enjoy the view.

Gabriel can feel his cock start to stiffen, but he ignores it, settling more comfortably in the couch to admire the show. Sam’s muscles move gracefully as he raises his hand, turns the water on. The boy cleans off quickly, efficiently, not leaving Gabriel enough time to admire the shower gel sliding on his skin, along the firm curve of his ass.

Gabriel thinks this might turn out to be a very short peep-show, right up until he sees Sam’s hand travel down his torso, slowly, all the way to his cock. Sam starts touching himself, working himself to hardness, but Gabriel is already there. The archangel opens his pants, gets his own cock out, and wraps a hand around it.

Sam takes his time at first, his hand moving slowly as his eyes flutter close. He’s holding himself against the wet wall with his free hand. Gabriel moans when he sees the boy bite his bottom lip, trying to keep quiet, but letting soft whimpering noises escape him.

Sam’s hand is going faster now, and so does Gabriel’s. The archangel isn’t used to touching himself, he usually just snaps up some playmate to take care of him, but he finds the act of jerking himself surprisingly _awesome_ , especially with this kind of visual stimulus.

He misses a beat when he has to get another piece of his Grace back, but it’s quick and Sam is still pleasuring himself, grunting under the shower spray. Then the boy tenses up, and the archangel distinctly hears the name that rolls off Sam’s tongue as he comes.

“Gabriel…”

It’s a breathy moan that brings the angel over the edge as his Grace sings in pure joy. He strokes himself through his orgasm, dragging it on as long as he can. 

He’s breathing hard afterwards, blinking at the screen with disbelief. A slow grin stretches his lips.

***

Sam cleans himself up quickly and turns the water off. He had to stop that, he told himself, this obsession with Gabriel could lead to nothing good. Especially since it isn’t only a physical attraction thing. He’s starting to grow attached to Gabriel’s presence, to his bubbling personality.

He’s so screwed.

Eventually the archangel will get out of his head, out of his dreams. And then he will flee and hide, like always. Okay, maybe he’ll help them put Lucifer back in his box, but he’ll have no reason whatsoever to stay afterwards. Just because Sam thinks they’re getting along fine right now doesn’t mean Gabriel will stay.

Sam sighs and wraps a towel around his hips, opening the bathroom door just as Dean’s about to bang on it to know what’s taking him so long.

“All yours,” Sam says before getting to his room and pulling on a pair of boxer shorts. 

They stopped by a drive-through on the way back, so he doesn’t have to worry about dinner and can just slide under the soft covers of Bobby’s guest room bed, exhausted. Darkness engulfs him as he falls into a deep sleep.

For a second, Sam doesn’t recognize the Dream Room. The four walls are respectively bright yellow, dark red, light orange an soft purple, a strange, cheerful combination that is, on second thought, purely _Gabriel_. The floor is a waxed parquet, soft under Sam’s feet, and there’s a giant flat screen television in front of the couch where the archangel is sitting, staring at him.

“Like the changes I made?” Gabriel asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Sam nods, smiling. “Not exactly my style, but not bad.”

He walks over to the couch, sits next to Gabriel and proceeds to kick off his shoes. The angel is watching each and every one of his movements with fierce intensity.

“I take it you got more of your powers back?” Sam asks, noticing the surround-sound system.

“Yup." The angel smiles. “Hey, watch this.”

He closes his eyes, his chin going slightly up as it always does when the angel is getting back a piece of himself. There’s a flash of bright light that engulfs the whole room, washing over Sam in a wave of power and glory.

“Wow.”

“Thanks,” Gabriel smirks, and Sam feels himself blush despite his best efforts.

“Er, so, we got Pestilence, and Castiel is back,” Sam says, trying to relax under the angel’s piercing gaze.

“I know.”

“What do you mean, you know?” Sam frowns.

Gabriel snaps, and the flat screen comes to life. Sam stares at the image of himself snoring softly in Bobby’s guest bedroom.

“What the…?”

“I discovered I could do that a few hours ago,” Gabriel grins, leaning closer to Sam.

“Hours?” Sam gulps, suspicion creeping up.

“Mmmhmm,” Gabriel confirms. “It was very… interesting.”

“Listen, Gabriel…” Sam starts, but the archangel grabs his shirt and pulls him close.

“Shut up, Sam,” he grunts before crushing their mouths together.

Sam is more than happy to comply. He grabs Gabriel’s neck as the angel deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing through Sam’s lips to claim his mouth. There’s a snapping sound and their clothes disappear as the couch they’re on morphs into a bed.

“So impatient." Sam grins, breaking the kiss to catch some air.

Gabriel just pushes him down on the mattress and climbs on top of him. Sam decides that right now, he doesn’t care about the consequences. If Gabriel wants to have fun, then Sam will take what he can get while he’s got the chance.

He grabs the angel’s ass, grinds their erections together and moans at the sensation. He’s pretty positive Gabriel just _mewled_ above him. Gabriel bends forward, wraps his mouth around Sam’s left nipple as he starts rocking his hips. One of Sam’s hands slides up the angel’s smooth back until it’s buried in soft hair, and he moans Gabriel’s name.

Gabriel snaps again as he sits back up, grinning at Sam. He holds out a bottle of lube and Sam’s breath catches, his dick twitching against his stomach. Sam watches the angel coat his fingers and tries to move his legs, to spread them to give Gabriel better access, but Gabriel shakes his head, still grinning, and reaches behind himself.

Sam’s eyes widen as he watches Gabriel slide two fingers inside himself and moan. He puts his hands on Gabriel’s hips, holds him up so he can see better as the angel’s fingers push past the tight ring of muscles. He thinks this is one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

The archangel is hot and impossibly tight as he lowers himself on Sam, and Sam can’t help but push up inside that warmth. He’s making noises, half-grunts and half-moans that sound nothing like him, and Gabriel grins above him, his wild hair framing his gorgeous, sinful face.

Sam tries to pull Gabriel down to him, but the archangel doesn’t budge, so he sits up, crushes their mouths together. Gabriel grabs his shoulders, nails digging in Sam’s skin, and keeps riding Sam. Their teeth clash and then Gabriel’s mouth is on Sam’s neck, licking and sucking and biting, and Sam’s hands are slipping on the archangel’s waist.

Gabriel stills, just for a second, and his Grace flashes through the room, through Sam, a mix of incredible power and bright light and earthy darkness and love, so much love. It’s more than Sam can handle, and he holds on to Gabriel as if his life depended on it and comes, shouting the archangel’s name.

He must have blacked out, which he didn’t think was actually possible to do in his own head, because the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back, Gabriel grinning above him, breathing hard like he’s just run a marathon. There’s something sticky on his stomach that tells him the angel is not going to complain about his passing out for a second or two.

“Wow,” is all Sam can say.

Gabriel just hums, climbing off Sam to drop on his back next to him. They stay like that for a while, just catching their breath. Sam doesn’t even realizes he’s entwined his fingers with Gabriel’s until he sits up, looking for something to wipe the drying come off his stomach.

“Just will it away,” Gabriel says, pushing himself up on his elbows to look at Sam.

Sam concentrates and his body is clean of both sweat and come.

“Nice trick.”

“One of the perks of dream-sex, I guess." Gabriel grins. “Along with not having to hide these bite marks in the morning.”

“Any chance you’ll make me real ones once you’re out of my head?” Sam asks easily, because he finds it impossible to feel awkward when Gabriel’s looking at him like that.

“Anytime,” the angel says with a leer.

“Good.” Sam smiles.

***

Sam is whistling. He’s _whistling_. They’re about to face off the freaking _Devil_ , to trick him back into his cage, and Sam is whistling! Dean doesn’t know what to think. He hasn’t seen Sam in such a good mood for longer than he can remember.

His brother looks almost happy. Well, it makes sense, maybe. The threat of becoming Lucifer’s vessel has been looming over him for almost a year now, and they’re about to put a stop to the Apocalypse. But Sam’s happiness seems a bit premature. The deed is not done yet, and they’re trusting Gabriel’s plan of all things.

He must have been staring, because Sam is looking at him, pulling one of his faces. This one is the ‘did I suddenly grow a second head or do you have a problem?’ one. Not that Dean has a list somewhere in his brain of all of Sam’s various and colorful faces and their meanings. He doesn’t need that to read his brother’s facial expressions.

“You sure about that?” Dean asks, because he has to say _something_ , and he clearly can’t just blurt out, ‘Dude, you’re whistling!’

“Gabriel’s plan?” Sam asks, eyebrows rising up and disappearing under his floppy hair. “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think we had a fair chance.”

“But it all rests on him,” Dean continues. “What’s to say this wasn’t all just an elaborate trick to get you to say yes?”

“Um, because nothing in the plan involves my actually saying yes?” Sam tries, and he’s wearing that amused expression that’s both foreign on him and strangely familiar. 

It takes Dean a second to realize who he got it from.

“Dude, the guy is rubbing off on you,” he grunts, giving up the argument.

They’ve made up their minds already, anyway. 

Sam huffs and zips his bag. Of course, Castiel chooses the moment Dean is turning around to appear just behind him, making him jump and his heart race.

“Cas, _Jesus_!” Dean swears, a hand on his chest. 

Castiel’s eyes gleam as he answers softly.

“I apologize. Are you ready to go?”

“Almost,” Sam calls above his shoulder, and starts whistling again.

Castiel cocks his head, looking at Sam with a puzzled look.

“Don’t ask,” Dean says, patting the angel’s shoulder, “he’s been like that all morning.”

“It is… unusual. Is the prospect of facing off Lucifer putting him in such a mood?”

“Beats me,” Dean shrugs, then pushes past Castiel towards the door.

Castiel follows him in the parking lot, watches him put his bag on the back seat. Dean closes the door and turns around, finds Castiel mere inches from him again. He doesn’t startle, but his heart is racing anyway.

“Cas?” he asks.

“If my brother is tricking us, we may very well die today,” Castiel states flatly. “Even if he’s telling the truth, if something goes wrong we could still die.”

“Way to think positive,” Dean replies, but it lacks any sort of reproach.

Castiel is still mere inches from him, and his eyes are so intense and unreadable, Dean is drowning in them.

“I do not wish to have any regrets in case something happens.”

“Regrets?” Dean gulps. “Cas, what are you t–”

Dean never finishes his sentence, because suddenly Castiel’s mouth is on his, hesitant and awkward, a question. Dean doesn’t dare to move, doesn’t dare to do anything. Castiel pushes his lips a bit more firmly against Dean’s, starts moving, ever so slowly.

Before Dean can decide whether to push the angel off or reciprocate, Castiel leans off, takes a step back. There’s the sound of a door closing, and footsteps as Sam joins them on the parking lot.

“Um, am I interrupting something?” Sam asks, looking at them with a barely hidden smile.

“No,” Castiel says flatly.

Dean shakes himself. He’s not going to have a gay freak-out or big revelation or whatever in front of his brother, merely hours away from facing the devil. No way.

“Just get in the car, Sammy,” he says in what he hopes is an annoyed tone. “And no whistling.”

“Wow, okay, okay,” Sam says, raising his hands soothingly. 

They get into the car, Dean behind the wheel, Sam in the passenger seat because there’s no room for his freakishly long legs behind, and Castiel sliding in the backseat, pushing the bags and various items there to settle comfortably. It’s such a _human_ thing to do that it throws Dean off for a second.

“Dude, you’re okay?” Sam asks, concern clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Dean says, tearing his eyes off Castiel’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Let’s do this thing.”

He turns the key in the ignition, puts the car on reverse and backs out of the parking lot. The Impala is purring, vibrating, as if it knew that today’s the day, the day when everything changes. For better or for worse, though, Dean’s still not entirely sure.

***

Sam is confident in their plan. Well, in Gabriel’s plan. He trusts the archangel. He can’t put words on it, but he felt something when Gabriel’s Grace flared through him, something that spoke to him of trust and redemption, of sincerity and love, the kind of love that’s too big and abstract for Sam to fully understand.

And he thinks part of this love is directed at him. 

Sam can feel his cheeks burning him at the thought, and he turns his head towards the window, making sure Dean doesn’t notice anything. He doesn’t deserve even the slightest sliver of love from a being so… so powerful. So pure. He doesn’t deserve Gabriel’s love, but, selfishly, he wants it.

He’s been wanting it since he found out who he was. Even after all the things the Trickster had put him through, even after the Mystery Spot time loop and TV-Land and giving him herpes, the second he found out who Gabriel was he understood him. He understood why he did everything he did, and that Gabriel wasn’t ready yet to stand up to himself as well as to his family. 

Sam saw so much of himself in the runaway archangel-turned-pagan-god. He hasn’t forgiven him everything yet, but he’s getting there, and less slowly than he thought he would.

He takes a quick look at Dean, next to him. He doesn’t know if his brother will understand Sam’s newfound feelings for Gabriel. Though he might be too busy trying to figure out his own feelings to really object to Sam’s.

He’s almost positive he saw Castiel kiss Dean in the motel parking lot. Dean seemed lost and confused, like he’s finally been hit by the clue bus and it’s left him numb. 

Dean must have felt him staring, because he takes his eyes off the road to glare at him.

“What?” he asks, almost snaps.

“Nothing!” Sam shrugs.

Dean narrows his eyes at him before looking back at the empty road. There’s a tense silence after that, and Sam’s trying to think of a way to break it, but Castiel does it for him.

“How much longer do we have to sit in here before we’re in Detroit?”

“If we’re lucky, another four hours,” Dean informs him, looking at the angel in the rearview mirror.

“My legs are hurting, and I need to use the bathroom.”

There’s something tight and worried in Dean’s face as he asks, “You think you can hold it for another twenty minutes or so, until the next gas station?”

“Yes, I believe I can.”

Dean nods stiffly, then presses his foot down. They come across a gas station about fifteen minutes later, and Dean pulls in, says he’ll take the occasion to fill up his baby. Sam rolls his eyes. One day he’ll have to tell Dean how bad it sounds when he speaks about his car like it’s a girl. Maybe when Gabriel will be able to snap him away before Dean rips him a new one.

Sam gets out of the car to stretch his legs and his stiff back, and watches Dean fill up the tank. He leans on the car, stares at his brother over the Impala’s hood until Dean looks up.

“You seem worried. About Cas.”

“He seems so _human_ ,” Dean breathes out, and Sam has to strain to hear him. “You can’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Dean sighs. “You remember when we decided to go our separate ways last year?”

Sam nods stiffly. It isn’t a period of his life he likes to dwell on much. Loneliness doesn’t agree with him.

“Well, I told you Zachariah had paid me a visit to convince me to say yes, and that it was why I’d called you back.”

Sam nods, waits for his brother to continue.

“He sent me five years in the future,” Dean says, looking away. “In this future I had never called you back, you’d ended up saying yes, I never did, and the angels had given up and left. I’d become a heartless douchebag, and Cas had Fallen. He was human, and Sammy? It was not pretty. There were drugs and alcohol and freaking _orgies_ , and he was so broken! And future-me didn’t give a damn. I can’t let that happen to him, Sam, I can’t.”

“You don’t have to. Just because things turned out that way in one alternative future doesn’t mean it _has_ to. We’re Team Free Will, remember? Making our own destiny and all that crap?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

Dean shrugs it off, like it doesn’t matter. Sam’s not stupid, but he knows not to push it. That’s more sharing than Dean’s done in _months_ , after all. Castiel is coming back anyway. Dean goes to pay for the gas, leaving Sam and Castiel alone next to the Impala.

“Dean is worried about me,” Castiel says.

“Yeah. He cares about you.”

“I know.” He pauses. “I care about him too.”

“Good.” Sam smiles.

“How is my brother?” Castiel asks, as Dean is still inside the station.

“Bored, mostly,” Sam smiles. “He’s doing better. I think he’ll be fine.”

“You smile a lot when you talk about him,” the angel comments.

“I guess I do,” Sam agrees.

“I believe the brotherly thing to do is to threaten to do you bodily harm if you break his heart?”

Castiel sounds so unsure that Sam can’t help laughing.

“That is the right thing to say,” he chuckles. “Though there are more chances of him breaking my heart than the other way around. Don’t tell Dean I said that, he’ll call me a giant girl again if you do.”

Castiel nods. “You’ll have to tell him, though.”

“I will,” Sam says. “After we’ve dealt with this Lucifer thing.”

Dean is coming out, a bag of potato chips in one hand, playing with the Impala’s keys with the other. He tosses the chips at Sam and they get back in the car.

***

“Did you find him?” Lucifer asks.

The demon trembles before him, pathetic and useless, as he shakes his head. Lucifer forces a sigh out of him, something the demon can interpret, understand. They think they’re so much better than humans, but they’re exactly like them. They _are_ them. Twisted and dark and _inferior_. And Lucifer should have bowed down to beings than can so easily end up like _this_?

He snaps, and the twisted thing that used to be a human soul burns inside its stolen body.

Useless. He doesn’t know why he even bothers. If they can’t find one of their own, can’t find the demon Crowley, how can they find Sam Winchester?

“My Lord, what does it matter?” the demon Megara utters, in what he guesses is supposed to be a seductive voice. “Crowley is no threat to you. He’s nothing compared to you.”

Megara is irritating, but she’s been one of the most devoted to him. Eager to take her father’s place at Lucifer’s side. Not that Azazel ever really mattered in Lucifer’s eyes. He was just a tool, and so is she.

She slithers up to him, and Lucifer watches her with indifference. At least she’s humble enough to lower her eyes to him, aware that her place is on her knees at his feet.

“He betrayed me,” he says coldly. “The punishment is death. If you can’t find someone good enough to find him, maybe I should send _you_ after him.”

“If this is your wish.”

She stays there, kneeling in front of him, eyes peeking up to steal quick glances of his face, as if Lucifer would ever let his thoughts show on his vessel’s face. He cocks his head on the side, considering whether to send her away or keep her close.

The choice is made for him. There’s a pull on his Grace, someone calling him by name, someone who has a right to.

“Rise,” he says. “Sam Winchester is calling. He probably won’t be alone. Take care of his brother if necessary.”

The demon gets on her feet, and Lucifer snaps them to the cold motel room in Detroit, where his True Vessel is waiting for him.

Dean and Castiel are there with him. Lucifer looks at his brother’s Grace, shriveled and useless. It’s making him sad, something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. Castiel had so much potential. But he’d sided with the humans, just like Gabriel. He doesn’t understand his brothers’ choice. It makes no sense.

Megara is standing in front of them, blade in hand, waiting one word from Lucifer to kill them both, but neither Dean nor Castiel seem to want to interfere. They look resigned.

Lucifer turns his attention to Sam. He cocks his head on the side, narrowing his eyes as though this could help him see better. He’s spent too much time in this vessel, too much time pretending to be something he is not if he does these things without thinking.

There’s something different about Sam. Something changed. Like he’s hiding something. Like he’s more than he seems.

Lucifer takes a step forward, and Sam doesn’t move. He looks resigned, too. Maybe what Lucifer is feeling is Sam finally accepting what he is, who he is. He takes another step forward.

It all happens at once. Grace flares out of Sam, unexpected and powerful and familiar, so familiar. It’s impossible, he _killed_ Gabriel, and feeling his brother’s Grace around him freezes him for a second. It turns out too be a fatal second, because in the meantime Castiel throws himself on Megara, leaving Dean free to toss the key to the Cage over at Sam, who shoves it in Lucifer’s chest.

Gabriel’s Grace forms a cocoon around him, a barrier he can’t pass as the portal opens and he falls back into the Pit. Darkness and suffering close around him as plunges back down into the cage, and he shouts at the top of his vessel’s lungs, his Grace vibrating with rage and despair. Then he’s alone again, forever trapped in the Cage, and in this decaying vessel.

***

Gabriel is holding on tight, keeping his brother from escaping, until he can see Lucifer falling into the dark abyss, see his vessel’s face contorted in anger and despair, see the emotions mirrored on his true faces, superposed on multiple dimensions, each of them accusing him. 

The door to the Cage finally closes, and Gabriel lets go. He turns his attention to Castiel, ignoring for now the two Winchester brothers closing their eyes, waiting for a clue that it would be safe to open them again.

The angel is crouching on the floor, a hand over his stomach, slippery with crimson blood from where the demon stabbed him. The angel-killing blade is lying on the floor next to the now-dead demon – her twisted soul hasn’t survived the surge of Gabriel’s grace filling the room.

If Castiel’s Grace had been whole, the blow would have destroyed it, killed the angel. It’s a blessing that Castiel's Grace has shriveled, even now hanging around Castiel, just beyond his reach, like it had been just beyond the blade’s reach.

Gabriel heals the vessel quickly, closing the wound with just one thought. Then he starts working on his brother’s Grace, mending it, blowing it back to life, tethering it firmly to Castiel. The other angel puts up no resistance. On the contrary, he opens himself up to Gabriel, gives him full access to his Grace, to the very essence of his being.

It’s such a show of complete trust that it sends a wave of warmth rippling through Gabriel. The archangel suddenly feels the urgent need to flee. He finishes his work, then unfurls his wings, takes flight.

He has no idea where he’s going at first, flying blind, feeling matter and anti-matter glide under his wings, unable to think beyond this need to get away from Castiel’s trust. How can his brother trust him after what he just did to Lucifer, to the angel he was once the most close to?

He hears Castiel call after him, faintly, but Gabriel needs to be alone right now, he just _needs to_. He shuts his brother out, finds the four-star motel on the no-star highway. His body is still there, still looking just as it has for centuries, except for the wound in the chest.

It’s not human. Human vessels can’t hold you forever, and when Gabriel had fled home he hadn’t intended to go back, ever. So he’d made his own vessel with the help of the pagan goddess Freya, and she’d welcomed him in Asgaard, giving him a name and a purpose.

Gabriel had been safe from his brothers’ search for him, hidden out of time and out of Heaven’s reach. Until Men’s faith in the Northern Pantheon grew too week to keep the doors to Asgaard open, and Gabriel, now Loki, had decided to stay on Earth.

Gabriel shakes the immaterial equivalent of his head and gets back to the present. He heals the empty body that’s been his for centuries, then carefully folds himself inside it. It feels warm, familiar in there. The archangel sits up, stretches the muscles of his back, then brings his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He has some thinking to do.

Carefully, he examines his feelings. Raphael always said angels don’t have feeling, but Gabriel knows better. He knows that Lucifer felt betrayed and abandoned by their Father when God created Man. He knows that Michael felt disappointed when their brother refused to obey God’s command. He knows most angels feel contempt for the humans, even though they’re not supposed to.

He knows how _he_ felt when God disappeared after His Son’s work was done.

So Gabriel takes a look at his own feelings, something he hasn’t allowed himself to do in a long time, certainly wouldn’t do while still trapped in Sam’s dreams. The predominant thing is guilt. Guilt over tricking Lucifer back in his Cage, guilt over not daring to stand up to his brothers until it was almost too late, guilt over leaving, all these years ago.

So guilt, yeah, and a tiny bit of regret over the not standing up part. Not the rest though. He doesn’t regret leaving, can’t regret it when it’s only then that he started really living. And he can’t regret sending his brother back into the Pit. Lucifer would have destroyed it all. Earth, Heaven, Mankind… He would have burned Sam’s soul from inside out.

Gabriel pushes the guilt at the back of his mind. Nothing he can do about it. Underneath it, he discovers a strange mix of love, fear and hope. Love for Sam, of course, this one he was expecting, but also love for his brother Castiel, so fierce and righteous, and even for Dean. Fear of rejection, fear of being a danger to Sam, fear of growing too attached to him that losing him one day would kill him. And hope that his feelings for Sam aren’t one-sided, hope that they can build something together.

He decides to kick the fear away to the back of his mind, to keep company to the guilt, and to hold on to that hope.

“I haven’t seen you with that expression for a very long time.”

Gabriel looks at Kali as the goddess sits down beside him. The corner of her mouth slides up in as soft a smile as she can probably manage. It’s not really a successful smile, but Gabriel appreciates the intention.

“How did you get here?” he asks softly.

She points out the clock on the wall behind her, and Gabriel nods.

“So, you going to thank me, or wait until the Fae start going after second-borns?”

“Yeah, like Oberon would ever let that happen,” Gabriel huffs. He doesn’t look at her when he says, “Thanks. For saving my life and all that.”

“Well, I did owe you that, after you prevented your brother from ripping my heart out of my ribcage.”

Gabriel smirks. Trust Kali to pretend she was only doing what she had to. It’s not like she could even admit to _liking_ Gabriel, now, could she?

“Hey, Loki?” she says after a pause. “Go back to that boy before he thinks you abandoned him, will you?”

Gabriel nods, smirk slowly turning into a grin. He jumps back on his feet, willing the dust off his clothes. Kali gets up with her usual fluid grace. The archangel wraps his arms around her in a rib-crushing hug, enjoying how she goes stiff in discomfort against him. Then he lets her go and, with a last wink, snaps away.

It seems he’s been away for longer than he thought, because the Winchesters and their angel have had time to check into a different motel. Dean startles as Gabriel appears, swearing as the bag he was holding lends heavily on his foot. Sam, who had been sitting on the bed, gets up, then just stands there, awkwardly, like he’s not sure if he should hug Gabriel or yell at him.

Gabriel makes the choice for him. He walks over to the boy, then grabs him by the collar and pulls his mouth down to his. Dean’s strangled noise just makes him grin into the kiss as Sam grabs Gabriel’s neck to hold him there. The archangel has no plan to go anywhere, though, and he makes it clear by plastering his body to Sam’s enthusiastically.

“Come on, dude!” Dean whines. “Get a room, at the very least!”

Gabriel takes his mouth off Sam’s, takes in the boy’s adorable slight blush before turning his head to look at Dean.

“Is that your big brother blessing?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, for Heaven’s _sake_!”

Gabriel smiles and snaps. He and Sam reappear inside a room down the hall, and he pushes the boy on the bed, climbs on top of him.

“So, you said something about giving me real bite marks?” Sam grins at him.

Gabriel’s own answering grin threatens to split his face in two.

***

Crowley is standing in the empty motel room, looking down at where the residue of energy still lingers from the Cage opening. Lucifer is back inside. His number one lieutenant lies dead in a corner of the room. Crowley knows the exact location of most of the other ones.

He can begin his coup. He’ll have the send a thank-you letter to the boys. Or figure out a way to get them to work for him, somehow. He’ll see.

Crowley smirks. He has a Hell to conquer.

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my lovely co-mods morganoconner and ladyeternal who dragged me into this insane project. Look at that, we made it! :D Thanks to my lovely flist and all those who supported me with this project. Special thanks to denazia who's aways a top cheerleader and to morganoconner for letting me use her Dean/Gabriel plotbunny _and_ letting me turn it into a Sam/Gabriel fic. Thanks to the lovely and talented soldierly for taking the time to beta this fic, and to the wonderful buni_in_the_sky with whom it was a pleasure to work. I love you all guys!


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